Little Gallifrey
by Nix Nada
Summary: COMPLETED! A Little Britain Doctor Who crossover. ...because someone told me it couldn't be done.
1. Chapter 1

**Little Gallifrey**

A mercifully short Little Britain / Doctor Who Crossover

By Nix Nada

_Disclaimer – I can only apologise…_

It was a fine day on Gallifrey as Lou pushed the Doctor's wheelchair through a used-TARDIS lot.

"Well?" said Lou, leaning down to talk to the grey-haired Timelord. "See anything you like?"

The Doctor pointed to his right, without looking. "I want that one."

Lou glanced over to see where the Doctor had pointed. "Are you sure?" he asked. "It's an old type-40, and it doesn't look like it's working very well any more."

"Yeah, I know," replied the Doctor, still not looking around.

"I think its chameleon circuit is broken as well," went on Lou.

"I want that one," repeated the Doctor.

Lou sighed. "All right," he replied. "You'll be needing a travelling companion, won't you? I'll just see if I can get some time off."

"I want Susan," said the Doctor.

"Your granddaughter?" said Lou. "She's a bit young to go off travelling the universe, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I know," said the Doctor. "I want Susan."

Lou shook is head. "All right then, Doctor," he said with a weary sigh. "You know best."

Later, the Doctor sat in his new TARDIS and looked around the console room. Susan caught his eye and gave him a little smile.

The Doctor stared at her.

"This TARDIS is rubbish," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Little Gallifrey – Chapter Two**

A cruelly lengthened Little Britain / Doctor Who crossover

By Nix Nada

_Disclaimer – I can only apologise again…_

The assembled members of the Timelord High Council listened as the Valeyard gave his final summation.

"Doctor," he said, his tone low and sonorous as a funeral bell, "you have been charged with the crime of meddling in time and the affairs of other races. If found guilty, you will be taken from this place to a place of execution; there to have your remaining regeneration stripped from you. What have you to say in your defence?"

The Doctor stood, drawing himself up to his full height.

"Yeah," he said, "but no, but yeah, right. I can't have done it cos I was with Tegan wasn't I and you can ask Nyssa if you don't believe me but don't listen to what she says cos she's a lying cow and anyway everyone knows she done it with Adric and it was Adric what give her the crabs."

He nodded firmly to underline his point.

The Valeyard cleared his throat, uneasily. "We have all seen the evidence against you, Doctor," he continued, trying to regain his composure. "Am I to take it that this is to be your sole defence?"

The Doctor thought about this for a second before reaching a decision. "Shut up!" he said. "You don't know nothing cos you wasn't there and anyway the Rani was letting the Master touch her bum if he give her a fag but he never give her one so she went in a right strop and got off with Reverend Magister just to make the Master jealous only it was the Master and when she found out she took a wee in his TARDIS console room and blamed it on Romana."

"If I may interrupt," said the Inquisitor, loudly, as she tried to bring proceedings to a speedy close. "It is the decision of this court that the Doctor's fate be decided by the Matrix – the repository of all knowledge on Gallifrey." She turned to an old Timelord who wore a large key on a chain around his neck. "Keeper of the Matrix," she said. "What is the verdict?"

The Keeper tapped a few buttons on the console before him. As he waited for the machine to give its results, he gave a single, noisy cough.

Eventually, he looked up, wearily.

"Computer says no," he said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Little Gallifrey – Chapter Three!**

A Little Britain / Doctor Who crossover that has desperately outstayed its welcome

By Nix Nada

_Disclaimer – If my apologies were genuine, I wouldn't still be writing them…_

**Now with added narration by Dame Tom Baker!**

**Tom: In the quaint welsh village of Gallifrey, renowned black-hole poker, Omega, has stopped in at his local to drown his sorrows. I tried to drown my sorrows once, but they chewed through the bag before I could throw them in the canal…**

Omega frowned through the eye-holes of his golden mask as he sat, disconsolate, at the bar.

The barmaid looked up from polishing a glass. "What's up, Omega?" she asked. "You don't half look glum."

Omega sighed. "I'm all right, Myfanwy," he replied, heavily. "It's just not easy being the only Timelord on Gallifrey, you know."

Myfanwy couldn't help letting out a small laugh. "Give over!" she said. "This place is teeming with Timelords!"

"It is not!" retorted Omega, huffily. "If it was, I think I'd know about it! Name one."

"Okay," said Myfanwy, "what about that nice Rassilon boy? He seems lovely – and he's a Timelord. You should ask him out for a drink sometime."

For a moment, Omega was speechless. "Wha-?" he spluttered. "Rassilon? A Timelord? I don't think so, Myfanwy!"

"He is," replied the barmaid. "I saw him in here the other night, banging on about cloister bells and chameleon circuits."

"That doesn't prove he's a Timelord," snorted Omega.

By this time, Myfanwy's patience was wearing thin. "You know what, Omega?" she said. "I wasn't going to tell anyone this, but it's about time you faced the truth." She took a deep breath. "I'm a Timelady."

At this, Omega nearly choked. "You?" he gasped. "You're a time-botherer? A wanderer in the fourth dimension?"

"Yes! We're all bloody Timelords, Omega!" she cried. "Look around you – this is Gallifrey!"

"Well," huffed Omega. "I'm not staying here to listen to this!"

As he made for the door, Myfanwy called out after him. "Now don't you go doing anything stupid, Omega! I mean it," she yelled as he slammed the door shut. "No creating anti-matter universes where you exist by will alone!"

She turned back to polished the glasses.

"Bloody idiot," she muttered. "Good thing I never told him I was gay…"

o o o

Later that day, Omega sat in his anti-matter universe, where he existed by will alone. He looked around at all that he had created and felt content.

"At last," he said to himself, "I am the only Timelord in this entire universe. Now I can – who the bloody hell are you two!"

Two men, one grey haired and hawk nosed, the other short with a pudding-bowl haircut had wandered into the throne room.

"Don't mind us," said the older of the two. "Just a couple of Timelords, passing through. We'll just be on our way."

Omega let out a cry of frustrated anguish.

**Tom again: And so we reach the end of our journey around Little Gallifrey. I hope you learned something. I know I did; I learned to never offer to manage a midget basketball team and that saying 'time at the bar' on Gallifrey isn't half as funny as I thought it would be. Good life!**

EDIT: Okay, You might have already noticed this, but I've bowed to pressure and added a chapter four. Read on, if you dare!


	4. Chapter 4

**Little Gallifrey – Chapter Four**

A Little Britain / Doctor Who crossover that, like all good comedy trilogies, now comes in four parts.

By Nix Nada

_Disclaimer – I own none of this. I do own the computer it was written on though. That must count for something, surely?_

**Now with 26.273 percent less narration by Tom Baker - guaranteed!**

**Tom: What? I just told them part three was the end. Oh, bloody hell. You never get treated like this on Monarch of the Glen. Next time, you can get Jon bloody Culshaw to do it…**

The pretty young receptionist looked up from her vidscreen to see a dapper, middle-aged man with a neatly-trimmed goatee beard walking into the office. She gave him her most professional smile.

"Good morning, sir," she said. "Welcome to the offices of the Galactic Empire. How may I help you today?"

The man flashed a feral grin. "I am the Master and you can help me by giving me control of the entire universe," he replied, pulling a stubby weapon from his pocket and aiming it at her head.

Instantly, a shimmering force field sprung up between them. The receptionist's smile did not even waver.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, unmoved. "Offensive weaponry is not permitted in these offices. I should warn you that Security has been notified and are on their way here now."

The Master sighed and pocketed the weapon again. "All right, my dear. We shall play your game – but according to _my _rules."

With that, he fixed her with a stare. "Look into my eyes, the eyes – not around the eyes, don't look around the eyes – look into my eyes. Okay, you're under. Now, I am the Master, and you will obey me. Got that? Okay, you're back in the room."

The receptionist blinked a couple of times, as if unsure of where she was. Then she focussed on the Master and smiled again.

"Good morning, Master," she said. "Welcome to the offices of the Galactic Empire. How may I help you today?"

"Better. First, you can call off Security; next, lower the force field; and finally there's that 'control of the entire universe' thing we discussed earlier. Understand?"

"I'm sorry, Master," she replied. "Control of the entire universe is only permissible through military conquest, intergalactic trade monopoly, or by filling out form 23(b)."

The Master closed his eyes and counted slowly to ten. "Can I have a form 23(b), then, please?"

"You would need to fill out a Form 23(a) to get that, Master."

The Master rolled his eyes. "Let's try this again: look into my eyes, the eyes, not around the eyes – okay? You're under. I've already filled out a form 23(b) _and _a 23(a) – while I was at it, I even dashed off a couple of form 23s, just to be on the safe side. Now, lower this force field, give me control of everything in creation, and I'll be on my way. All right, you're back in the room."

The receptionist blinked again. "Very good, Master. However, there is the small matter of the administration fee."

The Master let out a strangled cry. "Listen! The eyes, yeah? The eyes, the eyes, the eyes, the eyes – you're under. Now, just listen to me, right? I am the Master and I am damned well going to be lord of all creation, got it? And no silly little girl, sitting behind a desk, is going to stop me. Now, for the last time, you stupid child – give me what I want!"

The receptionist leant forward slightly in her chair. "I should warn you, sir," she replied, "that the Galactic Earth Empire uses androids as receptionists. As such, I am completely immune to hypnosis and can quite easily crush your skull with my bare hands. However, you will be pleased to hear that that will not be necessary, as I have managed to detain you long enough for Security to arrive. Have a nice day."

**Tom again: And so we reach the _actual_ end of our journey around Little Gallifrey. Just in time, too; I think the pub's about to open. Mine's a pint of Olde Gallifreyan. Cheers!**


End file.
